A Rolling Stone
by CigarsAllAround
Summary: Logan is slowly coming to terms with Rogue's presence in his life. *Contains a whipping scene. Please don't read if this offends you.*


_"_ _She's up on the roof, Logan!"_ That's the first time he'd heard anything about it and he'd choked on his ice cold beer. Hell, he'd been in the middle of his favorite New York bar at the time, minding his own business. All he had wanted was a couple of hours away from the mansion and then the shit had hit the fan.

 _"_ _You need to get her down before she hurts herself!"_ That was the second piece of information he'd been fed by the pretty redhead. It was just a shame she was yelling in his head and was nowhere to be seen. He liked eyeing up Jean when he had a bottle of booze in his hand. _"Logan, are you listening to me? Rogue is on the roof. She's on the roof in one of your shirts, a pair of pajama pants and her boots!"_

The Wolverine grunted in irritation and tossed a crumpled up five dollar bill onto the bar. "Beer to go," he told the shady-looking barman, waiting for his drink with a dark scowl and a furrowed brow.

 _"_ _You can't drink and drive,"_ Jean sighed in his mind, and he could almost hear her shaking her head. _"That's because I'm shaking it. You're not going to set a good example to the students if you turn up reeking of beer as you stagger off your bike."_

Logan rolled his eyes and when the Canadian brewed bottle was slid over the wood towards him, he nodded his head in thanks, and chugged the liquor down in seconds flat. She knew full well he couldn't get drunk that drunk. He had a healing factor, damn it.

 _"_ _Rogue doesn't,"_ the svelte woman remarked inside his thoughts, a video playing out in his head as the telepath relayed moving pictures of the kid balancing on the roof like she was trying out for the circus. What were those idiots called who walked a thin piece of rope? _"They're tightrope walkers, Logan. Now hurry up!"_

The muscular feral trudged to the exit and dropped the empty bottle into the mountain of trash dumped outside the front of the worn-down tavern. "Why the hell is she on the roof?" he finally asked, fishing his keys from his jacket pocket as he approached the bike under the full moon. "And why aren't you using your powers to drag her down?"

 _"_ _I'm at a pro-mutant conference in Minneapolis, and if I tried from here, I might drop her. Scott called me in a panic and then I contacted you. He's told me she's sleepwalking, but I think she's channelling somebody,"_ the beautiful lady in his head explained, causing Logan to snort. Maybe they needed an exorcist? _"That's not funny. Don't you care about Rogue's safety?"_

"Of course I care," he muttered, settling on his motorcycle and revving the engine. The bike roared underneath him and he steered his way toward the nearby interstate, his thumb resting on the button that would boost his speed. "If I didn't care I would have stayed for kicking-out time. It's going to take me at least ten minutes to hit the mansion gates if I don't break the speed limits. You think she can stay upright that long?"

 _"_ _I wouldn't count on it, Logan,"_ his resident shrink replied, causing him to slam his thumb down on the red button. The wind whipped around him as he rocketed across the newly laid tarmac, his burly form passing the odd car as he roared along, taking hazardous short-cuts and gunning it. _"And be careful! Do you always drive like this?"_

"Pretty much," Logan answered steadily, smirking when he heard her shriek. "The ride too choppy for you, darlin'? Never took you for a backseat driver, either."

 _"_ _I'm only inside your mind because I'm worried about Rogue, and I'm also going to nag until you agree to take a refresher course in driving. I'll be surprised if you arrive at the mansion in one piece! Oh God, stop smirking and pay attention to the road, Logan. You're going to hurt yourself!"_

He grunted in agreement and swerved, narrowly missing a pothole the size of the Professor's head. "She still up on her feet?" His voice rumbled from his curled lips, a snarl building in his chest as he zoomed by the 'Welcome to Westchester' sign. "She better be or I'm going to gut the Boy Scout."

 _"_ _This isn't Scott's fault, so don't you dare blame him. While myself, Storm and the Professor are away, you and my fiancé are supposed to be working together to take care of the students,"_ she sighed, and he knew she was frowning his way. _"Yes, I'm frowning at you. I told you last week we were leaving for this trip! I knew you weren't paying attention when I was talking."_

"You were wearing a low-cut shirt," he responded, shrugging and screeching to a halt outside the large mansion gates. The burning smell of rubber singed his nostrils and he swung his arm out to the side and thumped the code into the security box. "How's a red-blooded male supposed to pay attention when a woman is flaunting her best assets, huh?"

The voice in his head scoffed. _"Rogue's off the roof, you perverted pig."_

"I know," Logan grunted, inhaling deeply and searching the shadows ahead with his keen sense of sight. He climbed off the bike and wheeled it inside, the gates beginning to close behind him. "You're not going out, kid," he called to the dark profile edging around the trees to his left. His scuffed boots crunched heavily on the gravel and he sighed, relieved when the gates closed. "You can get out my head now, Jean. She's safe for somebody who's taken on the rough side of my mutation."

 _"_ _She's channeling you again? I mean, a feral? But she was on the roof, Logan,"_ the woman said in confusion. _"I thought maybe it was somebody she had accidentally touched when she was kidnapped by the Brotherhood. After all, they have some strange habits."_

He snorted in amusement. "I think she was scoping the area. I've done it a fair few times when I'm in enemy territory," he explained, wheeling the vintage Harley up the drive. "And you can get back to whatever you were doing now. Though, you gonna tell me what you're wearing first?"

 _"_ _Goodbye Logan,"_ Jean said, smiling. _"Look after Rogue and stay out of trouble."_

"Will do," the weary feral snorted, parking his bike in the garage and snapping his gaze back to the driveway with a heavyset scowl. The kid was searching for an escape route and he shook his head as the gates clattered in the distance. "One!" he called out gruffly, raising a shaggy eyebrow when she threw her weight against the barrier standing in her way again. "Two!" She stopped and backed away from the gates, and he nodded his approval. "Good girl, darlin'. Now you stay away from them, okay?"

He didn't hang around for an answer and made his way inside, rolling an unlit cigar between his calloused fingers. "Don't start, Scooter," he growled harshly, stalking past the mutant who was wearing a glum look behind his glasses. "I didn't know she was going to kick off tonight."

"You knew it was a possible!" Scott hissed, following after the Canadian. "She nearly gave me a heart attack when she was playing on the roof."

"If only," Logan muttered, heading into the deserted kitchen. "When that day comes I'll be giving the kid a pat on the back and not a swat to the ass." He rooted through the large refrigerator and didn't find anything that smelled decent enough to eat. There were leftovers, something that resembled road kill and a gallon of chocolate milk, but nothing the Wolverine valued as a wholesome meal. "Couldn't your woman go shopping before she hightailed it to Missouri?"

"Jean's in Minneapolis," he replied testily, standing behind Logan with balled fists. "And it's not her job to stock the fridge. Anyway, why the hell are you changing the subject? Rogue could have killed herself because her healing factor isn't as strong as yours, Wolverine. It barely works most of the time."

"I know that," the feral answered, dragging a hand through his hair and making it stand on end. "But she'll be right as rain tomorrow. This acting out doesn't last long and she'll burn some energy off running around outside."

"What makes you think she's going to listen to you?" Scott asked, bleary-eyed and exhausted as he stifled an emerging yawn with his hand. "I want to go to sleep, but I can't if Rogue's going to put herself in danger. She's not too bright when she's channelling you."

Logan snorted and helped himself to a can of sugary soda. "She'll listen to me, I'm her alpha. Don't ask me to explain it because you won't understand. It just means I'm in charge while the kid's feeding on her feral side. Talking of food, where the hell's the takeout menu?"

Cyclops walked for the door, a slight smile of smugness on his face which suddenly turned sour. "I don't think a meat feast pizza will help you bribe her, Wolverine. She's in a strange mood tonight, she almost kicked me somewhere that, uh, would have hurt. I bet you taught her to do that."

"Always thought you were a dick," the feral muttered after Scott, smelling the man's disapproval in the air, as he searched through the drawers lining the kitchen cabinets. "But I didn't teach her to kick you in the balls. What do you take me for?" He smirked at the retreating Scooter with a look that signaled he was winning the war as he carried on mocking the ass. "That's it; you go hit the hay, huh? Make sure you lock your door, too. The kid might try and take you down again, and I'm not about to wipe away your tears, Summers."

As Logan chuckled to himself he came across the local pizza place flyer and sighed, opening it and nudging the drawer closed with his hip. The sound of Cyclops climbing the staircase rattled in his ears while he picked out a couple of candidates for the kid to pig out on. He half-wondered what she'd been playing at trying to boot Scott in the balls; though he had a feeling the idiot had deserved it somehow. He'd still be chewing her out for acting that way because Marie was a ball of feral attitude wrapped up in a stray Wolverine. She'd didn't have the experience he did, just the instincts and anger, and sometimes he needed to knock her down a peg or two.

Funnily enough, thinking of the wild thorn in his side seemed to be a magnet for her wrongdoings and he glanced at the doorway, and wasn't amused by what he saw. "That's not yours darlin'," he reminded her firmly, nodding at the unlit cigar wedged between the southern girl's lips. "Go put it back."

Rogue cocked her head to the side and smirked, her eyes clouded with defiance. He could almost smell her way of thinking and he shook his head. "You light it and that cigar won't be the only thing burning," Logan warned in a growl, tossing the paper menu onto the kitchen table and taking a weighted step towards her. "You're going over my knee for an adjustment if you don't do as you're told. It's up to you, kid. What's it going to be? A late night and a pizza loaded with all the meat you can handle, or a lengthy session with your hairbrush? You'll be going straight to bed if it's the latter and there'll be no pizza either."

Her pale face seemed to quell any sign of shredding the rules when the hairbrush was mentioned, and she was cross-eyed as she stared at the roll of tobacco between her lips. "Ah want the pizza," she answered with a bold growl as she spat the cigar out and watched it tumble to the floor.

He raised an eyebrow at the lively display and closed the distance between them with a furrowed brow. "I know that wasn't the Wolverine making you dump the cigar on the ground. I've never wasted a smoke in my life." One of his muscular arms wrapped around her shoulders and he drew her into a hug, his thoughts drifting to her earlier stunts. "I'm not a fan of the attitude, but it's a relief to see Marie's on her way home. I've still got a bone to pick with you, though."

His large palm clapped down on her backside twice with a crack loud enough to raise the dead, and he knew she'd feel the sting for quite some time. "That's for going on the roof." He kept the whimpering girl pinned to his chest as he landed another loaded swat. "And that's for trying to damage Cyclops' pride and joy. No kicking, kid. That's your one and only warning."

As his feral charge whined pitifully and sniffled in response, Logan sighed, placing his hand on her back and slowly rubbing circles in an attempt to calm her. "It's okay darlin'," he murmured gruffly tucking her further under his arm and keeping her close to his side. His own instincts as a man told him to comfort the girl who'd crept into his life when he'd least expected it, but his inner alpha wanted her to learn her place in the pack. "We'll go over the rules again soon, for now though it's time for some decent grub. I'll get you one of those tubs of ice cream you like, too. That sound like a plan?"

Marie nodded and clung onto his belt loops with her slender fingers as Logan led her over to the table. He snatched the flimsy menu into his hand and scanned the list of food again. "Kid, go take the cigar back to my room," he told her, ruffling her hair when she looked ready to obey him. He wanted her to learn to connect the dots and listen to what he had to say when he said it. "Go on, once you're done, I'll have finished ordering the food."

"Okay, Ah'll take it back and Ah'll be really quick too!" she promised, wanting to please her alpha because he'd been angry with her. With a serious frown, she jogged to the cigar, picked it up and darted out the kitchen on fast feet.

The Wolverine smiled in pride, pleased Rogue was making an effort, and he grabbed the phone free from its cradle on the wall. With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the spotless dishwasher and dialed the number of the pizza joint, clearing his gravelly throat and starting to place his order. He froze, though, when he heard a commotion upstairs. For a split second he ignored the voice on the other end of the line, and trudged out into the vast hallway, surrounded by wood and raised words. His glare snapped to the staircase and he growled in irritation. "On second thoughts, cancel that. A deep pan pizza doesn't make a decent spanking implement."

Rogue had wandered into Logan's room and proudly set the cigar on the table beside his bed. She was pleased with herself because she was going to get pizza and her alpha would be happy he had his cigar back. But as she stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, she froze and her muscles tensed. Somebody was inside her bedroom. She sniffed the air wafting out from under the door as she approached on feather-light feet.

She scented one intruder. He was looking through her stuff! She could hear him curse as he knocked something over. Was that her lamp he'd broken? Her bedroom had suddenly been thrown into darkness, and she sprung forward, throwing the door open and snarling gently, a diluted Wolverine psyche tickling her vocal chords.

"Bobby," she said, following the scent just like her alpha had showed her. It led to a spot beside her sturdy chest of drawers and she could smell the boy the Marie part of her had dated. She glanced down at her hand when a stabbing pain rippled through her knuckles and she was surprised to see one jagged bone claw was pointing to the long lump behind the curtains. Something inside her was demanding she threaten the trespasser until he left her territory. "Ah should stab ya where ya stand, ya damn coward!"

A sheepish Bobby poked his head out from behind the leek-green curtains. "Hey Rogue," he whispered, gulping when he noticed a claw pointed his way. "Wow, that's why you were on the roof, you were pretending you were Logan again. I was telling Kitty the other day you sometimes had claws and could growl like him." He offered her a weak smile. "I'm here because I thought this was my room, but it isn't, is it?"

The southern girl inside the temporary feral was upset her sometimes-boyfriend had mentioned Kitty Pryde, but the other part of her brimmed with fury when she slowly rolled her gaze down the boy's body. "You're holdin' mah panties in ya hand," she murmured, her hackles beginning to rise.

"It's just a dare, Rogue," he responded gingerly, tucking her underwear back into the open drawer and closing it with a solid thump. "Pyro kept saying I'd never seen your panties before, and I haven't, but I didn't want him knowing that. You can't blame me for wanting to prove him wrong, can you?"

Rogue closed the gap between them and cocked her head to the side, her eyes slowly pooling into a pit of inky-blackness. She could feel her grip on the rules Wolverine laid down for her shattering as she contemplated killing the boy. Her thoughts began to untangle from human tolerance and understanding, and she roared, her knuckles simmering in sharp pain as six claws were swiped at the mutant she had once liked.

"Jesus!" Iceman yelped, ducking and diving past the girl and tripping over his own feet. He couldn't move fast enough to avoid her wrath and before he knew what was happening she was sitting on his chest, leaning forward and growling in his face. "Shit, shit, shit," he murmured, trying to remember what Logan had told everybody to do if Rogue lost her mind around them. "I surrender! Come on, Rogue, I don't want to freeze you. I'm surrendering!"

The southerner slid the tips of her claws across her prey's clammy skin. She could scent his clouded worry clashing with the thundering thump of his heart. His pulse was jabbering to her eyes as the vein protruded from the side of his neck, and she was mesmerized by the dancing flesh calling her name, but then something else tore her attention away from the attack forming in the battleground of her mind. Wolverine was coming. She could hear his footsteps, his breath, and his anger: it was speaking to her and her hackles began to rise again. Her senses were demanding she protect all that she owned and she couldn't allow another feral to enter her territory without a fight.

"Rogue, come on, this had gotten out of hand," Bobby murmured, a chain-like grin bolting his lips closed as he watched his former girlfriend study him with her sharp gaze. "I still love you, I think," he added through his gritted, nervous teeth. "I love you."

"Words won't get you anywhere," Logan grunted from the doorway, a dark scowl on his face. "As for you, kid, get your ass up and march it over here." He waited, his growl tumbling along with the seconds tripping by. "One." He took a threatening stamp forward, his brow furrowed and making his face look fractured from the grin he'd been wearing earlier. "Two." He sounded more dangerous now, angry as Hell she was sending him close to the next number.

She watched him closely, dragging the three claws of her right hand up across Bobby's smooth jawline and then stopping on the tip of his nose. Bobby twitched nervously, making her growl again. The claws moved further upward, her eyes locked in an epic clash with Logan's. She wasn't going to give up, she wasn't going to give in.

"Mr Logan," Bobby choked out, his face flushing a violent shade of red as he felt his smaller, flatter _head_ growing hard and as playful as a toy soldier. He was getting turned on by Rogue's behavior and he felt he needed a freezing, frozen shower before anybody noticed his ice cubes had all fallen to the little trunk he kept hidden in his underwear. "Get her off me. Come on, this isn't funny."

"Nobody's laughing, Drake," Logan grumbled, moving forward again because he could note the switch in the goddamn boy's scent and he wasn't having it. His eyes were still pinned on the girl he'd promised to take care of, and he was forcing his ass not to beat the life out of her for causing this crap. "You really want me to call out the next number, Rogue? You know what happens if I get to three. Remember Calgary?" He was relying on his tongue right now, thinking he'd be able to knock her into sparring with him using words. He wanted to jog her memory, not end up tussling with her because there'd only be one winner and she could get hurt.

There was a wave of silence in Rogue's chaotic mind. It had been rolling, rumbling, twisting and turning with threats, anger and clawing motions, but now she was focusing on Wolverine's words. She even watched his lips as he pronounced each vowel before deliberately letting the terms fly over to her. But as she raised her right hand, tilting the claws downwards to fork straight into Bobby's head, she'd made a mistake. Her gaze wasn't fastened to her feral equal, and she didn't see him take the chance to move and take her down.

The room was about to take a beating, but not as bad as what Rogue was about to counter, cradle and cry over. Logan had seen the mistake, she hadn't kept her eye contact and that meant she didn't know what her enemy was doing. With a snarl, he took a flying leap towards her, yelling out one word that meant she was in deep trouble. "Three!" he snapped, catching hold of one of her clawed hands before she had the chance to send Bobby blind. It took him less than a second to roll Rogue over and slam her into the messy carpet. He pinned both her hands behind the bottom of her back, then snarled in Bobby's direction. "Get lost, Ice Cube! I'd better not catch you in her room again, either!"

Bobby watched the struggling girl, and he nodded, turning his back on Logan in case the scary guy noticed his hardness. First of all, he scooted in the direction of the door, then he jumped up and fled, nearly falling over his own feet. All he kept thinking was, 'Take a shower, Bobby! Take a shower, Bobby! Take a cold shower, Bobby! Lock the bathroom door, Bobby! Lock the bathroom door, Bobby! Lock the bathroom door because Wolverine's going to kill you, Bobby!'

The sound of Rogue's growling was all that could be heard in her bedroom now. Logan waited for the Ice-prick to run, then he kicked backwards, booting the door almost closed. He moved his calloused hands, using one large palm to keep both of her arms still pinned to her back. Then, he reached underneath her and unbuttoned her jeans. "You hit number three, kid," he growled, nowhere near happy with her right now. "You nearly went and killed that boy and I ain't having it. You saw what happened in Calgary when you disobey me." He yanked her jeans down to mid thighs, still holding her still as he unbuckled his leather belt. "We're alike now, and I've made mistakes before, I've been honest with you but I'm not letting you shit your life away, you're better than that."

He doubled the belt in his hand, making sure the buckle part was hidden in his tight grip. Then with a heavy sigh, he swung it high and brought it down with a loud _CRACK!_ He brought the belt down again, and again, and again. He wasn't going to let his kid get away with this, she was going to listen to him and she wasn't going to attack anybody unless her goddamn life was in danger. He didn't count the strikes he was lashing down on her, he was concentrating on driving his rules home, instead.

Rogue, though, was starting to lose her grip on her feral mind. The leather belt was stripping away at her anger and replacing it with scarlet lines of fiery pain as the reality slowly seeped between her ears. "Yeow!" she almost howled, kicking her feet out because the lash had really hurt her. "Lo - Logan!" she stammered, the pain making her gasp because she couldn't stand getting whipped. "Ah'm sorry!" She wasn't really sure what she was sorry for, but it must have been bad if she had earned a whipping.

Logan grit his teeth, ignoring her words. Yeah, she would be sorry now, wouldn't she? Rogue needed to remember he was the alpha and she was staying at the bottom of the pack until he said otherwise. He easily fell into a rhythm with the belt, letting it snap down and making it clear he wasn't stopping until he decided she was sorry enough.

The whipping seemed to last a lifetime, poor Rogue a sobbing, confused wreck by the time Logan threaded the belt back through the loops of his jeans. He sat back against the side of the white dressing table, stretching his arm out and grimacing as he listened to the joints pop in complaint. His eyes grazed the back of Rogue's head again and he heaved a sigh. "C'mere, darlin'," he said, the fury faded and replaced by the need to comfort her now.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, tears heavier than the weight of the world falling down her pale face. Her behind was devastated by the fiery belt, her nose needed blowing, her eyes were bloodshot from all the crying she had done, and she still crawled towards Logan's open arms. She craved his forgiveness and needed him to tell her he still loved her, even when she was silly and irresponsible. "Ah'm - Ah'm sorry," she choked out timidly, beginning to openly sob again.

Grunting, he drew her into a reassuring hug, and tugged her jeans back in place to protect her modesty. He rubbed bland circles on her back, his way of helping her over the hurdles of coming to terms with the whipping of the century he'd dealt out to her. Though nothing would probably match the Calgary episode.

"I need you to listen to me, Marie," he said, his tone low as she sobbed quietly against his chest. "Taking on me and my memories is one thing, but when you use the powers on somebody else you could really do them some damage. I'm going to start teaching you self-control every morning, from five to seven, you hear me? No excuses either, you'll be attending every session or else."

Even though she didn't answer him, Logan knew she had heard every word. Her muscles had tensed when he had muttered the 'or else' threat. He kept her there, hugging her and calming her down until the sobbing subsided and was replaced by a not-so-subtle snore. She wasn't exactly a princess, but he figured she was close enough to being his very own daughter now. He sighed because he knew her scent had been changing for weeks now. It had started unraveling and mutating since the night he'd accidentally stabbed her in his sleep.

His head didn't know what it meant, but his heart and nose had the roughest of ideas. The kid was becoming _his_ kid now, her scent couldn't lie to him even if her mouth tried to often enough. Her body was changing, DNA was rerouting itself and hoodwinking her brain into believing it was feral. His head was catching up on the plan now. "Shit," he said, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Sweet, little Marie, the kid who'd run from the freak show in the small town in Mississippi would probably be running for the rest of her life.

She would be on people's radars. Teams of trained assholes with sophisticated kit would be sent out to capture her skinny ass. She would be hunted, kicked out of bars, treated like shit if she flashed her claws by accident, and even worse, if a shady character caught her she could be experimented on. The Wolverine growled lowly, tightening his hug on the snoring southerner who'd gone and turned his life upside down. He would kill anybody who harmed a single hair on her fucking head.

He shook his head roughly, shedding the murderous thoughts and carefully standing with the snoozing kid in his burly arms. He headed over to her unmade, single bed and lowered her onto her stomach, avoiding another round of sobbing if her ass had met the mattress. He knew how sensitive she was. Zipping open her leather boots, he slipped them off her feet gently and tossed them on the floor. As he guided the lime green-covered duvet up to her neck, he growled.

"What was Ice Cube doing in your room?" he groused to the sleeping girl, his nostrils flaring. He sniffed the air, taking a full step back and swinging round to face the curtains. He looked behind them, sniffed again and took a dangerous step to the right, taking him to the chest of drawers. He was retracing Bobby Drake's journey through the room and he wasn't a fan of it one bit.

Logan's fists clenched as he stalked out the room, having to head a few paces backwards when he realized he hadn't shut her bedroom door. Once that was rectified, he hunted down the soon-to-be beaten-half-to-death Bobby Drake. Finding a locked bathroom door in his way didn't deter the irate Wolverine.

He popped a gleaming claw and swiped through the lock like it was melting butter greeting a heated knife. Then for added effect, he booted the door open, wanting to scare the ever-loving shit out of the boy he didn't want sniffing round Marie.

"Three words, Drake," Logan snarled, stepping inside the bathroom. "Tell the truth."

He was met with a wide-eyed boy with his bottom half wrapped tightly in a navy blue towel. And it didn't take Bobby Drake long to realize why Logan was standing in front of him with a look that promised immediate murder with a hint of torture first. "It was a dare," he squeaked out pathetically, his wet feet lightly slipping on the tiles and sending him tumbling.

Logan moved rapidly before Bobby could crash face first. He caught the boy with a hand around his arm. He forced him to stand straight, then pressed the hand onto the boy's throat before slamming him into the tiled wall. " _What_ was the dare?" he growled, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.

"Look, I didn't hurt Rogue," he sputtered out, wanting to save himself from being impaled by a full set of adamantium claws. "Somebody dared me to sneak into her room and steal a pair of panties. That's it, I swear, it was just her panties!"

He stared the boy down, only a little satisfied when Bobby looked away. There were a mountain and a half of threats he could have issued, but he could smell fear in the air. It was pungent but gratifying. "Who dared you and why?"

"Pyro," he shot out, stumbling over his words like a murderer about to be handed over to his victim's violent family. "I, look, I lied about, just about seeing her panties before, and I wanted to prove that I wasn't lying so I went to her room. Please don't hurt me, I only did it so I looked cool in front of my friends!"

Logan was still growling, but his grip was loosening on the boy's throat. "I ever catch you within a foot of her room again I'll skin you alive, Drake," he warned with a deadly stare. "And you can tell your goddamn friends the truth while you're at it, too. If you don't, I will." He didn't hang around waiting for an answer and was digging in his pocket for a cigar as he walked away.

As the Wolverine sat on a bench in the mansion grounds he was surrounded by the low rustling of the wind threading its way through the shrubs, trees and bushes. He heaved a sigh, a heavy set scowl on his face as the last few hours rattled through his head. The kid was turning into a female version of him, the boys in the mansion wanted to see her underwear, he needed to train the kid, he needed to castrate the boys, and he had to find a way to sleep tonight.

He smiled, though. He had a kid. Somebody who relied on him to keep their nose clean and stop them from making mistakes. He had a kid and he didn't even have to deal with a screaming ex-girlfriend demanding money for cellphones and plastic surgery to help rid her skin of the stretchmarks. He had a kid who even liked him, and to top that off, she wasn't scared of him, either. And he had a kid he was going to protect until the day he died.

"I'd celebrate if I had it in me," Logan muttered, exhaling the smoke from his cigar.

 _"You do have it in you, Logan,"_ Jean's voice reminded him from deep inside his mind.

He smirked, shrugging at her comment. "Yeah, me and you celebrating in a dive of a motel room. The only thing that's worth the effort in the room is the bed, or would you prefer the shower?"

She smiled, he could feel it and almost taste her lips. _"I'm still engaged,"_ she reminded him, but he could detect the disappointment in her tone. _"It's not disappointment, it's excitement. I'm looking forward to marrying Scott."_

Logan rolled his eyes. That was similar to him saying he was looking forward to whipping the kid again. He took a drag from the cigar and focused his head on thinking about the future. If tonight was anything to go by, he was in for a rough ride. How long did kids Marie's age act out for anyway? It couldn't be long, she was fifteen, she had to grow out of it in a month of two. Then again, how many teens did he know?

"One," Logan answered for himself. He blinked heavily, starting to feel like he was out of his depth. "Jean?"

 _"You know one bright, considerate and kind teenager, Logan,"_ Jean informed him gently. _"Never doubt yourself."_

His smirk returned, consuming his rugged face. He scratched at his stubble and slowly snuffed the cigar out on his hand, watching his skin ripple and burn. He could do this. He had fought in too many wars, lost his memories, lived through a life of skipping from one town to the next while keeping his head just above the water. Raising a teen girl that was turning into a feral would be a piece of fucking cake. Marks his words: this was straightforward, simple, painless, manageable child's play.


End file.
